We're sick like animals We play pretend
by insipidity
Summary: Sherlock/Lestrade. John notices something about Sherlock and Lestrade. Moriarty shows up. Rating for future violence and mentions of sex.
1. Chapter 1

Because I need this obsession to go away. Spoilers, obviously. This probably works best if you watch the series and then read this, because I won't write everything that happens in an episode (because you know those things already).

Storywise, the first chapter is a recap of _A Study in Pink_, the second chapter is my own, and the rest you'll just have to see for yourselves. I don't like recaps, really, but this fic kind of varies from canon to AU and back to canon again, so it's better.

Some chapters contain references to other TV shows. Can you spot them all?

I was trying something different in terms of style. I've been awake for 37 hours writing these. Time for bed.

**Chapter 1**

**A Study in Pink**

_You know where to find me._

_SH_

As if the day hadn't been long enough already. Lestrade sighed. He knew he'd eventually bring the younger man in on the case, but _eventually_ didn't mean _right now_.

Later at the office, Sally hurried after him. "You've got to stop him from doing that. He's making us look like idiots."

"If you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop it." Lestrade told her. He was growing annoyed with the fact that everyone at the precinct seemed to think he had some power over the consulting detective or whatever he was calling himself. He wondered if anyone did. Or could.

He then shook his head and concentrated on the case. Sherlock usually turned out to be right, and if he was saying the suicides had been murders (in a manner of speaking), he should at least see if that was even a viable option. He knew and Sherlock knew, absolutely everyone knew that there was something odd about the suicides, but the tricky part would be proving something else had taken place. He got out his headset and put his favorite song on. This would be a long night. He sang along as it usually cheered him up. "No, I won't sleep tonight.."

At 221B Baker Street, John had barely had the time to sit down at his new flat when he had already observed that Sherlock, while brilliant on his own, was looking for others' approval just as much as the next man. While he attempted to appear impartial as he questioned John's opinion on his website, his face visibly fell when he saw John's doubtful look. This made him seem a bit more human and not the superhuman he claimed to be. Living with the man would be _interesting_, to say the least, John smiled. As they chatted with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock suddenly turned to the window.

John heard footsteps and a man in his late forties emerged through the door. He and Sherlock briefly discussed the terms of Sherlock going with him. The man didn't seem to realize it, but John could see Sherlock was simply pulling the man's leg with his act of reluctance. Sherlock soon gave up, as expected, and the man looked like he bowed to Sherlock as a thank you. The man then turned to leave. He glanced at Mrs. Hudson and John before going. When his eyes met John's, for a brief moment he seemed worried. This didn't last long, however. The man rushed down the stairs and was gone in under a second.

Sherlock waited patiently to hear the downstairs door close behind the man, although he couldn't stop himself from breaking out into a smile. When he heard the door clack, he then jumped in the air out of sheer joy and seemed immensely pleased by the turn of events. His words seemed to indicate he was simply glad to be included in the investigation, but John couldn't help but wonder if his outburst had something to do with the man that had just left. The man was apparently somehow affiliated with the police department. As Sherlock left, nearly dancing as he went, John looked at the newspaper and saw the man's photograph. Detective Inspector Lestrade.

Suddenly Sherlock returned and asked him to come along. John said yes, of course.

At the crime scene, John followed Sherlock but they were stopped by a woman. "Hello freak", the woman told Sherlock.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade", Sherlock announced. The woman didn't seem too impressed.

"Why?"

John was confused. For the crime that had just been committed. Why else would Sherlock want to see Lestrade? If they were friends, they could have met while not investigating a death.

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look", Sherlock said and smiled like the devil he was.

"Well you know what I think, don't you?" The woman smiled and for a brief moment John definitely felt something was up between Lestrade and Sherlock that noone had simply told him about. Oblivious to his thoughts, Sherlock proceeded to unveil the secret affair the woman, now identified as Donovan, was having with Anderson. She could definitely do better than that, John thought before he followed Sherlock inside.

They made their way to Lestrade. Lestrade eyed John. "Who's this?" "He's with me", Sherlock remarked. John wished the man would stop saying things like that, it was bad enough Mrs. Hudson had thought they were a couple. He didn't want that becoming a regular theme.

Lestrade questioned Sherlock about him a bit further but Sherlock didn't give in. John didn't particularly enjoy being argued over while he was in the same room so he was glad when Lestrade gave up and started telling them about the crime scene.

While an experienced army doctor, John still felt a bit queezy looking at the body. After a moment of silence, Sherlock turned to look at Lestrade. "Shut up."

Lestrade looked genuinely surprised. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying."

John all but suppressed a smile. Harry and Clara had been just like that. Despite the poor state of their relationship, John had visited Harry once. They had played some boardgames and while Harry was pondering on which was the best strategy, Clara's mere thought process had bothered her to no end. It was a small miracle Clara hadn't left her first, now that one thought about it. Clara had been too kind for her own good.

John's thoughts drifted back into the present and while he watched Sherlock work his magic, he turned to look at Lestrade. The man had a kind of a half-smile on his face. His eyes were fixed on Sherlock, which was understandable considering the situation, but John still felt there was something off about the man. John had always been rather reluctant to try deciphering body language, as for example the DI's position (hands behind his back) could either be interpreted as having nothing to hide, or specifically having something to hide. John would have to ask Sherlock about it later, maybe he would have some input on the matter.

Once Sherlock was finished, he asked for John's opinion, which again provoked Lestrade. John saw that Sherlock took pride in the fact that he could make the man do whatever he wanted. For instance, the way he ended their current argument with a simple 'Yes, because you need me'.

Sherlock emphasized his words with an intense stare that he shot at Lestrade, who returned the favor. John half-expected for Lestrade to argue him, but to his surprise the man agreed. "Yes I do." The DI then looked away, an expression of shame making its way to his face. "God help me."

Lestrade now put in his place, Sherlock told John to examine the body. John looked at Lestrade, unsure what to do. The older man, slightly ticked off, told him to do whatever 'he' wanted and left.

"What am I doing here?"

"Helping me make a point." Sherlock's faint smile and a brief glance targeted at the now closed door slightly unnerved John. To say the two men seemed to have a complicated relationship would have been an understatement.

He heard Lestrade return as he started going through the body. After Sherlock had dazzled them both with his conclusions, he had run off and left John to get down the stairs by himself. Outside, he met with Sally, who told him to keep his distance from Sherlock. Towards the end of the conversation, she suddenly added: "It's bad enough one of our own has been taken by him. I at least want to avoid civilian casualties." She motioned him goodbye and walked away, leaving John stupefied. "What?"

Later on, at the restaurant, John tried to get to know Sherlock a bit more, just to see where was the man coming from, if there was something to explain him being the way he was. Of course, his attempt at 'subtle' was easily interpreted as 'flirting'.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing when Sherlock turned to look at him. "-Which is fine by the way." _How was _that_ better?_

"I know it's fine." Sherlock looked pained. Either by his blogger's limited mind or something else.

"So you got a boyfriend?"

"No."

John tried to salvage what he could, but he just made it worse. After some rambling, he finally just stopped talking, which he deemed the better choice. Ever since he'd met Sherlock, he'd felt just a tad more intelligent than a cockroach. This seemed to be the popular mindset among Sherlock's acquaintances.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable. "John, erm..I think you should know I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your-"

"-No!" John remarked.

"-interest, I'm really not looking for anything.."

"No! I'm not asking.. No. I'm just saying..It's all fine."

"Good. Thank you."

After a quick chase around the streets of London, they finally stopped and John asked to see the badge Sherlock had flashed to the Americans. "It's Detective Inspector Lestrade's."

"Yeah, I pick-pocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat."

John wondered exactly how much power Sherlock held over the DI. Sherlock invaded his crime scenes, brought guests, stole from him..how come Lestrade hadn't arrested him yet? Sherlock's earlier words came back to him. _Married to my work..._

At the flat, they were met with a distraught Mrs. Hudson. They hurried upstairs, where John could only think 'Payback's a bitch, even with these two'.

Lestrade was waiting for Sherlock on the sofa, now with a nice work suit. As on their previous encounters, John noticed now, the pair didn't bother with civil greetings like 'hello' or 'goodbye', they knew each other well enough not to bother. "What are you doing?" Sherlock questioned the man, who seemed amused.

"Well I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid." Sherlock seemed to think everyone was below him on an intellectual level, and while that was usually the case, for John it was still humorous to see someone actually take him down a notch while using that exact argument.

Sherlock, on his part, was not amused. "You can't just break into my flat."

Lestrade had the same look on his face as earlier when Sherlock had told him to shut up. Genuine surprise. "_You_ can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat." While he and Sherlock didn't think twice about pissing each other off with whatever crap they could think of, a DI couldn't just admit to unethical conduct.

"Well what do you call this, then?" Sherlock argued.

Lestrade looked around him. "It's a drugs bust." He grinned. This would be fun.

John laughed. "Seriously? A junkie? This guy–have you met him?"

"John.." Sherlock quietly told him as he turned around to move to the man's side. John saw Lestrade's face fall and misinterpreted it.

"I'm pretty sure you can search this flat all day and you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

He continued again until he realized he had just blown it once again. Sherlock Holmes, a junkie? He saw Lestrade look at him in a new way. Before, most of his glances had been those of worry or irritation. Now the DI looked amused and his smile was genuine. Perhaps the man was glad to know John didn't know Sherlock all that well. But why would that be?

"This is childish", Sherlock hissed as he passed the DI.

Lestrade stood his ground and firmly rebuked Sherlock. "Well I'm dealing with a child. It's our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own! Clear?"

"Or what? So you, you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"

"It stops being pretend if we find anything", Lestrade replied and his expression told John that he wasn't entirely sure if they would or wouldn't. John could detect a hint of actual worry in his voice.

"I am clean!"

"Is your flat? All of it?" Lestrade asked him.

"For God's sake, I don't even smoke", Sherlock snapped and showed his patched arm. What struck John as interesting was that when Lestrade showed his arm in his turn, the patch he was wearing was exactly the same. A coincidence? There were several nicotine patch companies, but there were only so many designs for a patch. He chocked it to coincidence. What else could it be? Lestrade gives Holmes nicotine patches and is then surprised that he uses them? Actually, that sounded pretty believable, at least the last part, but why would Lestrade be giving out nicotine patches to Holmes? Definitely a coincidence.

After they had realized Sherlock had just gone on a date with a serial killer, John was simply furious with the man. Of course the idiot just went by himself with a maniac who'd already killed four people.

Sally came up to Lestrade. She said quite a number of things, but what John found interesting was what she said while looking at Lestrade. "He's always going to let you down. He's wasting your time." For one fleeting moment, her expression was almost tender and Lestrade looked apologetic. She stormed off and left John and Lestrade think.

Lestrade seemed at a loss over Sherlock's recent reckless behavior. "Why did he do that, why did he have to leave?"

"You know him better than I do."

"I've know him for five years, and no, I don't."

"Why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm desperate, that's why." John was a bit stunned by his words, as they left a lot to be interpreted. Lestrade was about to leave, but at the last minute turned to say one last thing.

"Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." John could just about detect a warm smile on the DI's lips before the man left.

What happened after that was pretty straight forward. John went after Sherlock, because that was his function. His role. To save Sherlock from Sherlock. When it was all over, he waited for the man to be let off. He saw Lestrade go up to Sherlock, who had just been covered with a blanket once again. Lestrade briefly looked around him to see if anyone was watching, then placed his right hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck to caress him. This didn't go on for long, as Sherlock got up, breaking the contact. John could hear Sherlock start going through the case again, and Lestrade smiled. Sherlock went on and John heard him shout 'Sherlock!', a little more conversation that John couldn't quite make out and then Sherlock came to him. John shot one last look at Lestrade who grinned before turning around and starting to order people around to wrap up the case.


	2. Chapter 2

Because I can. Neon Trees – Animal. My obsession for the couple began when I saw MonstersInside's video set to _Animal_ on YT. Without MI this fic wouldn't exist (and I would've gotten some sleep last night). Whoever you are, _MonstersInside_, I love you as much as it is possible to love someone you have never met (which is still quite a lot, I think). Mention of her video is with MonstersInside's permission, whereas the copyright issue in general.. I think this falls under "Fair use". Some references to other shows.

**Chapter 2**

It had been some time since John had moved in. They had settled rather comfortably into a rhythm where John's sleep was constantly interrupted by Sherlock, whether it was for a case or because the man was playing the violin. To be fair, Sherlock had told him from the start he wouldn't be the best possible flatmate, and, furthermore, John knew he had annoying habits himself.

A few weeks had passed since the events of _a Study in Pink_ and John had some questions for Sherlock. The man in question was lying on the sofa, clearly wondering how to releave his boredom this time.

"So. You don't have a boyfriend."

"John, I thought we talked about this already."

"Yes, we did. I'm just unsure about a few details." John's words seemed to stir a reaction in Sherlock, who got up to sit. He was now facing John. "What details?"

"You said you don't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend."

"You seem to want to accuse me of lying."

"Well, no. No, that's not..Well, actually, yes." John rambled again. Maybe he would get his IQ back if he simply hung out with regular people. Yes, he should definitely do that.

"Based on what?" Sherlock seemed intrigued now.

"The patches." John blurted out.

"I'm sorry?"

"You have the same kind of nicotine patch as Lestrade does." John waited for Sherlock's reaction.

Sherlock smiled. "Anything else?"

"Well, there was also that time I saw him pet you at the crime scene. You know, after I saved your behind in that pink case?"

"Very good, doctor." Sherlock looked at him like he was a dog who had just learned to play fetch. John was a bit annoyed by this, but let it slide to save time.

"So which is it? Are you with him or not?"

Sherlock gave him a devilish smile. "No, I'm not with him."

"But.."

"He's with me." As he saw John's bewildered look, he continued. "He's infatuated with me. _You_ think I'm brilliant, but when it comes down to it, you fancy the ladies. Lestrade's not as lucky. He _adores_ me."

'A high-functioning sociopath'. The man's own words. If Sherlock was telling the truth (and John had little reason to doubt him), Lestrade couldn't have chosen a worse person to fall for. "So, what. He pines after you and for that he lets you dance around in his crime scenes?"

"Actually it's a bit more than that. I had to put out a little to achieve this level of clearance from him." Sherlock spoke as if he were making a list of different ways to murder someone (normal people would be talking about a shopping list, but he's not 'normal people', is he?).

"Oh God. Too much.. Mental image." John tried to think about teddy bears. Anything else. "Poor Lestrade."

"What are you talking about? He gets _me_. What more could he want?" Sherlock asked. His arrogance was only softened by the fact that he genuinely believed he was right.

"He doesn't get _you_, he gets a few pity-fucks _from_ you." John tried to make Sherlock see that what he was doing was wrong.

"Pity? Far from it. He's actually very skilled in that area. I thoroughly enjoyed every session." Sherlock smiled, and his eyes became fixed. "In fact, I'm bored right now. I think I'll go see him. Thanks for the idea, John, you've been very helpful."

With that, Sherlock grabbed his coat and left. John tried to come up with something that would take his mind off the conversation he'd just had. Cue daily rape shower.

Lestrade was just about to hit the sack when he heard the door go. "I see you used the key I gave you", he said without turning. He reached up to place the cups he had just dried into the cupboard. He heard the door close. Music started playing. Lestrade smiled. He loved the song, and he knew the person who had put it on knew that as well. He turned around to face Sherlock, who was now standing very close to him. "I haven't seen you in a while. Not since you nearly got yourself killed", he stated. He looked away. He couldn't take Sherlock's hungry stare. He knew why the man was here. He was also aware of the fact that if he'd give in, it wouldn't make any difference. Five minutes after, Sherlock would be bored again and leave in a hurry. He just couldn't take it. Not tonight, at least. The case he had been working on earlier had been finally brought to a close. Unfortunately it had taken the life of a kid to do it. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling up for Sherlock's antics at the moment.

_What are you waiting for? _

He saw that that was Sherlock's question exactly. He was always the one who initiated whatever it was they did together. Sherlock only needed to show up. Now that he thought about it, that should have been the first clue. "Just go, Sherlock. I'm not up for it tonight."

Sherlock leaned in. Lestrade could feel his resolve waver. "Don't."

_Take a bite of my heart tonight_

"Why deny me? You want it. I want it. Isn't that all there is to it?"

"I know you don't give a toss about me." Lestrade felt he sounded like a child, but explaining his actions to Sherlock was always more than a little difficult.

"But you can _have_ me! Honestly, you sound like John right now." Sherlock seemed exasperated by their attitudes.

"You told him?" Lestrade winced. He really didn't want the man to put this shameful affair on his blog.

"He figured it out. Can you believe it? I can't. Though you kind of made it obvious to him."

"When?"

"If you want to keep this a secret, try not touching me in a crime scene where anyone can see you", Sherlock teased him.

"For h- You could have been killed! I was upset." Lestrade should have remembered that explaining feelings to Sherlock was the equivalent of explaining how to make an igloo to someone who lived next to the Sahara. Interesting piece of information, yes. Useful? No.

Sherlock raised his right eyebrow. "Why? I survived." Before Lestrade could argue him further, Sherlock placed his cool lips on Lestrade's.

_And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you_

Lestrade broke the kiss. "How did you remember this song?"

"How?"

"You've said many times that you delete this kind of crap from your memory."

"Because this particular piece of crap is useful to me. I've noticed that if you need convincing, you give in easier if this song's playing. The first time it was a coincidence, the second time I tried putting it on just to see if it had an effect on you. Is this song somehow special to you?"

Lestrade smiled sadly and looked down. "Yes, but you wouldn't understand why."

Sherlock nodded. He then proceeded to kiss him again. Lestrade pushed him away. "Just go."

Lestrade saw that Sherlock was visibly upset that he rejected him. He said _no_ to the great Sherlock Holmes? Stranger things had happened, and yet..He knew that if Sherlock tried to convince him again, he'd probably give in. Fortunately, he had managed to wound the man's pride enough to make him stop. Sherlock shot one burning glance at him before leaving. Lestrade went to the door the man had left open. He closed the door and covered his mouth because he was afraid of finding out what sound he might emit if he didn't.

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_


	3. Chapter 3

'Cause I'm not sick but I'm not well.

**Chapter 3**

Sherlock came back earlier than John had expected. He had an angry look on his face. He was panting. "Did you run here?" John asked.

Sherlock ignored him. He started banging on the sofa. John grabbed him and threw him on the floor to shake him. "What's wrong? Are you trying to hurt yourself?"

"Hurt. Myself?" Sherlock stopped. He then looked like he always did when he had had a brilliant idea. "Marvelous! Pure genius!"

"What is?" John didn't like the fixed look in the man's eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

"Hurting myself. Really, that's brilliant, John. And I know just the amount it will take." Sherlock got down on his knees on the floor and pulled something from the wall, revealing a syringe. "I trust you to bring me back. Otherwise, this will be slightly insane."

"_Slightly_?" John jumped to him and took the syringe away from Sherlock before he could fill it. "Why are you thinking about ODing?"

Sherlock looked away. "He said no."

"That's hardly a reason to kill yourself for."

"Kill myself? Hardly. I was just thinking about ODing so he would come to his senses and sleep with me again."

"That's...sick."

"Again 'not good'?"

"Definitely."

"Then what else am I to do?"

"He said _no_ once. Maybe he was tired."

"He's been tired before. It's not an issue."

"Well, maybe you said something.."

"Oh? Yes. This is good. Let me write you a documentation about the things we said. Then you can tell me what went wrong."

"No, that's not.." John tried to stop him but Sherlock had already begun working on the paper. It had been a fairly short meeting so it didn't take him long to finish. He handed the paper to John. John read it. It was like reading a romantic scene with none of the romantic parts. "I think he's getting frustrated with the fact that you don't love him." John was expecting for Sherlock to say 'obvious' but the man really didn't seem to know that.

"What should I do?" It seemed like the world was coming to an end when Sherlock Holmes was coming to John for advice on love.

"Either fall in love with him or let him go."

"Those are your options?" Sherlock seemed incredulous.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, a lot of good you did." Sherlock paused. "I don't understand. What does it matter to him if I care about him or not, if I'm doing the things someone who cares about him would do?"

"I think you're confusing love and sex. Which is ironic, now that I think about it."

Sherlock ignored him. "If he grows tired of me, I won't get anymore cases from him."

"That might be a consequence, yes, but you'd be doing something good.." John tried to urge him to the right direction.

Sherlock ignored him. "John, how does someone go about courting someone?"

The next day, John went for a walk. He had a feeling that walking among regular people would do him some good. He had walked for maybe half an hour when he saw Lestrade. The detective didn't notice him as he was just about to get into his car.

"Lestrade", John called out for him. The man turned to look at him, clearly wondering for a moment who he was until recognizing him. He greeted John with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, for a moment there I didn't recognize you without him."

John wondered whether this was what his life would now become. Forever eclipsed by Sherlock and to be only remembered as an extension of the brilliant man. Not that he minded too much, he wasn't one for attention, but still. "That's quite alright."

"Let me make it up to you. You need a ride? Or are you trying to stay in shape?" Lestrade motioned him to get in the car. John accepted his offer and sat next to Lestrade.

"Do you have somewhere you need to go?" John asked the man. He had no knowledge of Lestrade's work hours and he didn't want to impose.

"No, I just got off work. It's not a problem at all", Lestrade replied and started the car. "Oh, but if you don't mind, I still have to get some papers to the station, after all. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure." John didn't know exactly what to do in a situation where his new flatmate's boyfriend was giving him a ride. He expected Lestrade to ask him about Sherlock, but the man just cursed at a construction site which forced them to take a side road to the station.

As he waited for Lestrade's return, John went through the options at his disposal. Either he would simply remain quiet and/or make small talk until they'd reach Baker Street, or he would just man up and ask Lestrade about Sherlock. He was curious, but he also believed that in general, one should avoid pissing off people who carried guns.

Lestrade returned to the car. "Right. Off we go then."

John hesitated. Then he almost shouted: "Sherlock told me about the two of you."

Lestrade turned to look at him, eyes wide. He then recovered. "Yes. He told me."

Lestrade saw John's expression become sympathetic, nearly that of pity. "So you really are..you know, with him?"

Lestrade had a bad feeling Sherlock had had a laugh at his expense. "What exactly did he tell you?"

"Well.. that you like him, and he kind of uses that to his advantage. To get on cases, I mean."

John expected Lestrade to look embarrassed, and he already regretted saying anything. Lestrade looked at him with a blank expression at first. Then he bursted out laughing.

"Oh.._God_. The little bugger.." Lestrade wiped away the tears of laughter. "Priceless. Just soddin' priceless."

John simply waited for him to calm down. "Right. Well. Okay then."

Still highly amused, Lestrade pulled over. They had arrived on Baker Street. "Don't worry John. I'll be just fine." He chuckled and John waved in goodbye to him, feeling like an idiot once again since nobody was telling him anything.

Inside, he saw Sherlock working on the eyes Sally had found in the microwave. Though they couldn't have been the same ones, that had been some time ago, they would've rotten by now. Still, John didn't want to dwell on the thought any further. "You are a horrible, horrible man", John uttered before going to his room.

Sherlock simply smiled. He looked slightly like a shark at that moment. "Well, at least I didn't lie about the sex." He grinned at John, who tried to fight it but ended up smiling anyway.

A few days after the night when Lestrade had told Sherlock no, something he thought he would never do, he received a bouquet of flowers. They were delivered to the station, so the flowers attracted quite a bit of attention and mocking glances from the others. Sally was the one who brought them to him. "These were left for you."

Lestrade looked at the flowers. "Have they been checked for poison or a bomb?"

"Both. They are just flowers. Who'd you get them from, then?"

"Is there a card?" Lestrade went through the flowers but found nothing. "I haven't the faintest. Who'd send me flowers?"

Sally shrugged and left. Lestrade heard an electronic beep and checked his phone.

_Do you like them?_

_SH_

Lestrade just stared. Why. In. The **world**. Would Sherlock be giving him flowers? He decided he was dreaming and decided to rest his eyes for a bit. Even after the nap (it was his lunch hour so it was okay) the flowers were still there. He had also received another text.

_Dinner tomorrow night?_

_SH_

At the restaurant, Sherlock was waiting for him as he entered. He was a bit late because the latest case had kept him busy until the very end. He saw Sherlock and walked over to the man. "Sorry I'm late." He sat down and watched as Sherlock looked up from the menu. "That's quite alright. I've been reading about the hostage situation. Good job solving it without me", he replied with a cool voice, but Lestrade knew the man well enough to know that he was actually giving him a compliment (in his own snarky way). Then again, hostage situations didn't seem to fall into Sherlock's area of expertise, anyway.

"So, why did you invite me to dinner?"

"We both eat, we might as well do that together." Sherlock seemed to smile, but his lips hadn't moved.

"Where's John, don't you usually eat with him, these days?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock had a look that read 'busted' on his face. Like a rookie, he tried to evade the question. "I thought you had gotten over your initial jealousy over him."

"I have. Just answer the question." Lestrade grinned as he teased the younger man.

"Alright. I wanted to have dinner with you."

"Why?"

"John is giving me advice on how to court you."

"Court? We don't live in the 19th century. Why do you want to date me?"

"So you will feel comfortable sleeping with me again." Sherlock's look of hunger troubled Lestrade, though he usually welcomed it. Apparently his refusal of Sherlock had left the man thinking they were having an actual problem. Lestrade could've fixed the situation with one simple sentence, but he was curious to see what Sherlock had planned on doing to 'make things up for him'.

"And you want to sleep with me again because.." Lestrade instantly regretted asking that. That was the one thing they never talked about. He cursed himself. He knew that digging too deep would only result in tears for him, but as he was a detective, he couldn't help himself.

"Well, obviously not only because are you a very good and skillful lover, but also so you will continue letting me in on your cases."

There it was. Lestrade knew this had been the reason Sherlock had done anything with him in the first place, but he had always hoped there was something more to it. He enjoyed what they had, this eternal cat and mouse game they shared, but he felt he should end it. Not because he wanted to, but because it wasn't right. _Then again, if it feels right to me, is it still wrong?_

His face felt like a mask as he spoke. "Don't worry. I will still call you on cases."

Sherlock looked delighted. "Now, let us order."

"No, I, uh..I think I'm going to go."

Sherlock seemed confused. "Why?"

"Ask John to explain to you once you get home", Lestrade winced when he attempted to smile. He got up and touched Sherlock's cheek in goodbye.

At home, Sherlock indeed questioned John on what had happened. "I think he just broke up with you."

"Why?"

"Because he can't pretend that you like him anymore since you made it so painfully obvious you don't."

"I disagree. I told him he's a great lover."

"And that you want to sleep with him to get cases."

"Yes. What's wrong with that? His cases get solved, we both get sex. I think it's a fantastic arrangement. None of this useless feelings crap that leaves all parties devastated."

"In your arrangement, it's Lestrade who's devastated."

"All because I didn't say I care for him?"

"Well, do you?"

Sherlock was quiet for a long time. "I could've chosen another person. I didn't. There was a reason for that."

John realized this was something Sherlock had never told anyone, especially to Lestrade. Sherlock continued. "I tried deleting him. I really did. He was so extraordinarily ordinary and yet, I couldn't forget or make myself forget the small details I learned of him. It annoyed me to no end."

Sherlock sighed. "I had a problem with narcotics. He's the one that got me off them. He used police resources to get one civilian to get dry, but he eventually succeeded. I relapse, every once in a while, and he's there. Well, now you're here, but usually it's always been him."

"Love is a distraction. So is everything around it. Like I said, I figured I had the perfect arrangement with him. Then he had to fall in love. You see, it was fine for me to be who I was with him until he started to love me. Now I just end up hurting him all the time, like now. Why bother with the whole ordeal."

"You know, he's not as vulnerable as you think he is. Don't you two just piss each other for the hell of it on a general basis, like with the drugs bust back then?"

"That was before he got all gooey. I liked things the way they were. He once told me I have no heart, and you know what we did? We spent three hours in bed. Now, he takes offense. I miss the days when I could steal his wallet, he could bust me for drugs and we would still end up in bed together by the end of the night."

"A man can dream", John remarked ironically, but it was lost on Sherlock, who was staring out of the window. Though he had helped Sherlock on his insane idea of courting Lestrade, he had no intention of playing an actual matchmaker for the two, because he didn't know if helping them would be a good or a very, very bad thing.


	4. Chapter 4 part 1

Short one, for the flow's sake. Thanks for the reviews :)

**Chapter 4 part 1**

**The Great Game**

Lestrade had been 'busy' during _the Blind Banker_ case. Sherlock seemed to be getting nervous if that was becoming a regular theme, but a couple of days later, John was just done remarking on Sherlock's relationship with his brother when Sherlock got a phone call.

"Sherlock Holmes." John saw Sherlock's face change when he recognized the caller. "Of course. How could I refuse."

"Lestrade. I'm being summoned."

At the station, they were met by Lestrade. John couldn't sense a shred of animosity between the two despite how things had ended between them. True professionals if he ever saw ones.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Of course."

"Then you're gonna love this."

After Sherlock pulled the pink phone out of the envelope, they were all more than a little surprised.

"That's the phone, the pink phone?" John uttered.

"What, from _the Study in Pink_?" Lestrade asked, chiming in.

Sherlock corrected them, noting that it wasn't the same phone, but a replica. Then he seemed to think of something. "_Study in Pink_? You read his blog?"

John felt a twinge of guilt. "Of course I read his blog, we all do. Do you _really_ not know that the Earth goes around the Sun?" Sally gave out a sort of a half-snort, incredulous at his remark. Okay, now John felt even more guilty. On the other hand, this gave Lestrade a chance to give a little bit of payback, which John felt was only just. Then again, now that he had found out that Sherlock might actually have genuine feelings towards the man made things slightly more complicated.

Sherlock ignored them and got back to examining the phone. Later at the scene where they found the shoes, Lestrade was starting to get the magnitude of the situation. Some psycho was targeting Sherlock. At first it had seemed a childish game of tit for tat, but now the psycho turned out to be, well, a real psycho who was actually targeting other people as well, Lestrade had become worried. Sherlock would make it out of this alive, he was sure of it, but there was another voice inside him that went 'but what if he does not?' He tried to remember how easy things had been at the very beginning, when they could've just had a tumble and then go about their business as usual. He and Sherlock had been great at this 'together but not really together' thing they had had going for quite some time now. He had a feeling he was the one who had screwed it all up, but it was no use crying over spilled milk now. He didn't want to worry for Sherlock, nor did he want him worrying about him. Just..What did he want, really?

A while later, John was with Sherlock at the lab when Molly entered with her boyfriend. The whole scene was quite embarrassing, but when Jim left, it took a turn for the worse.

"What do you mean, gay?"

Sherlock spent the next 33 seconds dissecting Molly's weight and why her boyfriend was gay. When Molly stormed off, Sherlock looked sincerely dumbfounded.

"Charming. Well done", John told him sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"No, Sherlock, _that_ wasn't kind."

"I should've done the same thing to Lestrade when we first met. Save us all the trouble." Sherlock muttered and turned back to the microscope. John looked at him with a sympathetic smile on his face.

Some time later at the morgue, they were going through the dead woman's COD. "There's something else we haven't thought of."

"Is there?" Sherlock replied in a snippy manner. Though it would have been unnatural to change Lestrade's sentence, he still didn't appreciate it ending in a preposition.

"Yes. Why is he doing this? The bomber. If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out to?"

"Good Samaritan."

Lestrade could feel himself being sucked into Sherlock's warped sense of logic. He fought the urge with all he had. "Who press-gangs suicide bombers?"

"Bad Samaritan."

Lestrade all but smiled. At the last second he remembered he was still a cop. "I'm serious Sherlock."

Sherlock danced around his warnings, as usual. He sighed as Sherlock sprinted off. This was going to end badly.

Though they started out fine, John was starting to see some signs of normal post-breakup tension between the two. At the shore it was John who had to break them up.

"But what does this have to do with that painting, I don't see.."

"You do see, you just don't observe!"

"Alright! Alright, girls, calm down."

Lestrade looked down at John's remark. He was aware of the fact that John knew what had happened between them. He didn't like it, but accepted it as a part of his personal hell that just wouldn't let up.

Sherlock explained to them who he thought the dead man to be. John winced when Lestrade suggested tube driver and Sherlock looked at him like he was born yesterday. Lestrade, however, didn't seem too bothered by his attitude.

As they walked away from the shore, John hurried to Lestrade's side. "Sorry about that. You know how he is."

Lestrade looked at him with his left eyebrow raised. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, the whole tube driver thing."

To John's surprise, the man broke out into a smile. "You haven't noticed it, then?"

John looked unsure and Lestrade continued. "Yes you have, but you simply haven't _observed_ it. He gets his best ideas when someone makes an idiotic suggestion. He has asked you for help too, hasn't he?"

John remembered the earlier episode with the shoes. "Yeah. I saw nothing, he saw everything."

"_After_ you saw nothing." Lestrade flashed him a smile and hurried on to his car. John grinned. Then he hurried after Sherlock so the man wouldn't leave without him.

At the museum Lestrade was clearly upset by the fact that the psycho had taken a child hostage. Sherlock sent him to get the kid and Lestrade hurried off.

That was the last they saw of him before Moriarty made his first appearance as himself.

For an awful moment, John saw that Sherlock was actually considering the possibility that he could be Moriarty. He couldn't speak unless instructed to, so he watched as Sherlock Holmes lost faith in himself for one brief moment. Couldn't he have seen if John were indeed Moriarty? Certainly. And yet.. what if Moriarty was just better than him? Would it be possible then?

Fortunately for Sherlock's sanity, Moriarty was too vain to be thought to be the pet of his arch-enemy. John briefly congratulated himself for remaining so calm. He listened to the conversation between the two masterminds, but he **was** still _slightly_ distracted by the fact that he was a talking walking bomb. He was used to the war and the bombs that went with it, having actual bombs attached to him wasn't a big leap. That said, he definitely wished he were somewhere else and several bombs lighter.

"If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"But we both know that's not quite true." While seemingly warm, Moriarty's smile was as wicked as his plots.

He left them, gave them a chance to catch their breaths...and returned. Just as Sherlock was about to shoot the bomb, they all heard a beep. Moriarty answered his phone and listened for a while. He broke out into an excited smile. He got off the phone and made a motion. "Sorry dear, gotta dash. I decided to go with plan A after all. Toodles."

"What do you think that was about?" John asked Sherlock. He was half-expecting for Moriarty to make another comeback.

"Like he said. Plan A."

"And that is.."

"To burn the heart out of me."

"And how's he thinking about doing that?" John laughed. The adrenaline had to make its way out somehow. The laughter died on his lips when he saw the look on Sherlock's face. "Sherlock.."

The man ignored him. He took out his phone, dialled the number and waited.

"Lestrade's not answering."


	5. Chapter 4 part 2

I fixed the part about bombs in chapter 4 part 1, apparently leaving no space between sentences equals a part of them getting cut off. Thanks, ffnet.

Thanks for the reviews again :) Yes, I disabled anonymous reviews to avoid abuse.

John's sexuality is immaterial to this story. A bit more on my views on the subject can be found in my blog (see my profile), but him getting together with someone is not something you should be looking forward to (/to which you should be looking forward :D).

**Chapter 4 part 2**

John was starting to get an awful feeling about the whole matter. "I'm sure he's just out. Ring him again in ten minutes and he'll pick up." He didn't believe himself, but he felt he needed to at least try to comfort Sherlock.

Sherlock, however, ignored his feeble attempts and dialled another number. "Donovan? Is Lestrade there with you?" A pause. "When did you last see him?" A longer pause. "I think he was taken by the same man who was behind this bomb case. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Sherlock got off the phone and looked at John. "Car. Now."

At the station, they were met with Sally, who rushed them in front of a television. They saw Lestrade on the screen. "Is this the news?" John asked. "No, it's a special broadcast. The wanker's taken over one of the channels for his twisted game." Sally's anger was visible on her face. One thing John had always admired about cops was their sense of unity. You try to hurt a cop, all the others will get back at you.

Lestrade was gagged with a piece of sheet or something to that effect. He seemed to be in a pretty good condition, all things considered. There were some cuts on his face, but that was to be expected. He was a DI, of course he'd tried to make a run for it. They could only see bits of the room he was being held in.

Sherlock got a text.

_Now that you are watching, we can begin._

_JM_

As promised, a man appeared in front of the camera. He was holding a knife. John could only see him up to his shoulders, as he was careful not to be filmed in a way that he could be recognized. John suspected he was wearing a mask anyway.

A computer generated voice started talking. _In case some of you don't recognize this man, he is London's very own Detective inspector Lestrade. You might not want to bother memorizing his name, though, considering he's going to die soon_.

The man started unbuttoning Lestrade's shirt. Lestrade struggled, but his arms were tied in a way that left him little room to breath, let alone fight back. The unbuttoning was taking too long, so the man settled to use the knife to rip the shirt open.

"Why Lestrade?" Sally asked. John turned to look at her. She shrugged. "He's not the chief. If the sicko's beef is with the Freak, shouldn't he have taken him?"

John shrugged. Sherlock wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the screen. He typed something on his smartphone. "He's at the Willis building."

"How can you possibly know that?" John asked. "Still, very glad you do."

"The window on the right gives a view to the Gherkin. The window on the left shows Broadgate Tower. What I can't figure out is why he would give me such an obvious clue.." Sherlock looked at Sally. "What do we do?"

Sally was astonished. Sherlock was asking her for instructions? She quickly recovered since Lestrade's life was on the line. "I'm on it." She called up a team of specialists to rush to the tower.

_Well done, Sherlock. The question that remains, however, is whether lover boy has enough blood to last until you get here._

The knife the man had been holding flashed. The man planted it in Lestrade's chest. Lestrade's eyes widened in pain. John looked away. Sherlock couldn't. Ah. The plan was crude for a reason. All Moriarty cared about was disposing of Lestrade in the most public manner possible.

His phone rang. Sherlock picked up and put the call on speaker. "What do you want from me?"

"I told you. I'll burn the heart out of you."

"What can I do?" Sherlock asked.

"Bargaining? That's a little beneath you, isn't it?"

The knife was removed from Lestrade's chest. The man moved the blade a bit more to the left and started cutting. Up, down, up, down..

Sherlock winced. "Do you actually feel this? As if it were your own flesh that was being carved?" Moriarty's voice mocked him. "Maybe you are less like me than I thought."

Before Sherlock had time to respond, Moriarty turned off the phone. He switched to the electronic voice that was being broadcast everywhere in the United Kingdom.

"It's you who's less like me than I thought", Sherlock muttered. Such a crude and obvious way to torture someone.

_I'm actually here to send a message to Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade here is simply a casualty of war. Why, you ask? Because he is the one that gets Sherlock all hot and bothered, and the feelings are mutual. But don't take _my_ word for it! _

The screen became filled with images of Lestrade and Sherlock in several compromising situations.

John winced. He then glanced at Sherlock, who remained calm. "Photoshop."

_Certainly, even the pictures could be photoshopped, but here's something that's more difficult to fake!_

A video started playing. When John could finally make out what it was about, he didn't want to see it. "You _filmed_ yourselves during..?"

"Never. The photos aren't ours, either. He's been watching us for some time. This is dedication, if anything." Sherlock seemed to almost admire Moriarty's scheme, despite the fact that Lestrade was a pawn in it. John was starting to wonder if he'd been wrong in thinking the man might harbor some feelings for Lestrade after all.

As if reading his thoughts, Sherlock looked at him. "Did you say something?"

"No. Well. What are we going to do?"

"Wait."

"Just..I. Just wait?"

"I have a feeling things are about to turn in our favor", Sherlock said and looked hopeful.

John had to rely on him. What choice did he have?

After fifteen minutes, the seemingly endless string of photos and videos finally stopped and Lestrade reappeared on the screen. The wounds on his chest were openly bleeding. His stomach was covered in blood. Sherlock took a glance at the screen and started laughing. "Brilliant. Oh, good day. Definitely. Just brilliant."

Sometimes John wondered if Sherlock really was a sociopath. This was one of those moments. "What on Earth are you laughing about?"

Moriarty seemed to be wondering the same thing. Sherlock's phone rang. "Finally decided the man's not worth your time?"

"Actually, he just proved himself worthy."

A moment of silence. "Do explain."

"One thing Lestrade was always really, really good at was escaping when he was being tied-up. I'll leave it up to your imagination to figure out how I know this."

Moriarty laughed, but his voice wavered. "You think he's going to escape? Do you see the state he's in?"

"The state _in which_ he is", Sherlock corrected him. He lowered the phone. He wanted to savor the moment.

John watched him. What could be happening to warrant such a welcome from Sherlock?

Then he saw Lestrade move. During all this time, the DI had been working on freeing himself while the man had tortured him. He took the man by surprise and took his rifle. John was first just plain relieved over the turn of events, but he quickly saw that Lestrade was showing signs of shock. Not surprising, considering all the blood he had lost. Lestrade moved slowly, as if drunk, and while trying to make his way to the door, he fell on the floor. There he stayed, having lost consciousness.

John turned to look at Sherlock who looked unnerved and disappointed. "Well, he was heroic for a moment."

"Yes, all two seconds of it." Sherlock sighed. He grabbed his coat. "Well, let's go."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Against all odds, Moriarty's remaining men in the building didn't have the time to take Lestrade out before Sally and her team busted the place. Lestrade had been in pretty bad shape by the time Sally had gotten to him, but he'd been transported to the nearest hospital just in case he _could_ be patched up again. To nobody's surprise, Moriarty escaped. For all they knew he had never been in the building to begin with. Still, John knew he'd be back eventually.

A good four hours later the doctor came to them with good news. Lestrade hadn't died, but he'd definitely be staying in the hospital for quite some time before he'd be released. The man had been drugged (both by Moriarty and now by the doctors), so he wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

John took Sherlock home and told him to get some sleep. He tried to set an example for the man by going to bed himself, but all through the night he could hear the violin playing violently. At about 4am. John could hear he'd given up the violin and started playing one song on his laptop over and over again.

_Oh, oh, _

_I want some more_

John took a peek at his friend who was slumped on the sofa. He wondered how many times he'd listened to the same song. It was strange, as Sherlock didn't seem fond of popular music, of course, he could've been mistaken, considering how long he'd known the man.

_I feel the chemicals kicking in_

Suddenly, Sherlock got up. "Yes!" He grabbed his coat when John called after him. "Where are you going?"

"Hospital. Coming along?"

"Lestrade's not awake. Wait until morning and we can go together."

Sherlock scowled. "I'm going now."

"I will shoot you if you do that."

"You wouldn't."

"Of course, you can never be too sure what a man's capable of until you've actually seen them shoot someone...oh wait, you have!"

"Well, technically I didn't _see_ you.."

"Bed. Now."

The next morning they hastily ate breakfast and left for the hospital. Only Sherlock was let in, since he turned out to be Lestrade's emergency contact.

John waited outside and happened to glance at a television. It was all over the news, the story about a London cop, his boyfriend and his boyfriend's stalker. John couldn't even imagine being Lestrade. Sherlock didn't care about the pictures or even the videos, but Lestrade probably did. No normal human being would enjoy their photos being taken by strangers and those photos being spread all over the Internet. All right, except actors, models, wannabe-actors and so on..but did those people really fall under the category of 'normal human beings'?

His thoughts focused on the present when he realized he could hear Sherlock through the door.

Inside, Sherlock approached the bed. "I think I figured out why you like that song so much."

He saw that Lestrade was awake, but he seemed strangely unresponsive. Lestrade looked at him, but didn't really seem to see him. He hadn't said anything. Sherlock circled around in the room, seemingly randomly but in truth it was to see whether the man's eyes were functioning properly.

They were fine, as Lestrade's gaze followed him wherever he went. His expression was blank.

Sherlock was a bit nervous. "It's us, isn't it?"

Lestrade nodded. He looked away from Sherlock for a moment. Then he turned back to face Sherlock.

"I know. Obvious, right?" Sherlock approached the older man and sat down on his bed. "This sentimental side of you isn't always bad, you know." He continued. "Why are you not talking?"

Lestrade tilted his head at that. He seemed tired. More tired than Sherlock had ever seen him. He didn't detect any wounds on the man's throat, so the only other options seemed to be that the man was simply refusing to talk or that he was suffering from a mental block. Sherlock guessed the latter was the case, as he wasn't really sensing any emotion from the man.

He recalled someone had been snapped out of a similar state by making him experience another shock. He decided it couldn't hurt, so he suddenly leaped forward to kiss the man.

Lestrade didn't kiss him back. Sherlock leaned back to see if the act had caused even the slightest reaction. The man seemed surprised, but he soon resumed his look of bland emptiness.

"John!" Sherlock shouted. The doctor entered and greeted Lestrade before turning his gaze to Sherlock. Sherlock got up and walked away from the bed.

"He's not talking. Fix him, will you?"

John nearly smiled. "Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you."

"Then I think he would say 'I don't want to talk to you' instead of letting me ramble on endlessly in front of him."

"Okay, good point."

John sat on the bed to get a better view on Lestrade. Just when he was about to feel out his thyroid when Lestrade finally stirred. "Oi!"

Sherlock immediately walked up to him. "So you _were_ just ignoring me out of spite."

"No, I wasn't. I just didn't, and just to clarify I still don't, feel like talking." Lestrade leaned down on the bed.

"Yes, I imagine the trauma.." John started, and Sherlock looked at him like he was an idiot. John shot an equally rebuking glance back at him. _Sherlock of all people should be more understanding with Lestrade_, he thought.

"What trauma?" Lestrade seemed surprised.

John tried rephrasing his words. "Um. You do remember being taken hostage? Getting your insides ripped out? That sort of thing?"

"Oh, _that_." Lestrade spoke as if the ordeal had taken place years ago. Sherlock shot a victorious glance at John, who was stunned. "You two are **not** normal", John muttered.

"I'm just kind of sad my life's over, that's all", Lestrade said.

"Didn't you just get it back?" John asked.

"Well, I'm alive, yes, but the department fired me."

Sherlock laughed. "They can't do that."

"They started digging, and they found out about you. So, yeah. My usefulness to the department is 'under evaluation'. I know enough unemployed people to know what that means." Lestrade looked half-depressed, half-hopeful. "So now I just have to figure out what I can do. I'm not exactly young so it's not the best situation to be in, but when you're down you can only go up, right?" Lestrade looked at them like he was embarking upon an adventure. John was surprised by his calm attitude when faced with an entire life change. They turned to see Sherlock walk out of the room, holding his phone on his right hand. "Probably working on a case already", Lestrade commented with a faint smile.

"Are you really alright?" John asked.

"Yes. Sure, I have no significant other or a job, but I have me. I think that's enough." He winced. "Isn't it?"

John eyed him. Lestrade looked away, clearly thinking about what jobs he could get at his age.

John sat down on one of the chairs. This wasn't right. Not by far.

Meanwhile, at the British government, Mycroft Holmes was going about his day as usual when he received an unexpected text message.

_I need your help._

_SH_

Mycroft smiled. He dialled his brother's number and waited for him to pick up. Mycroft preferred calling, Sherlock texting. This time he thought it was alright for him to call.

"Yes." He listened with a smile on his face. "Of course.

He hang up and turned to 'Anthea' who was doing something with her phone as usual. "I need you to reinstate someone for me."

Sherlock returned in a fabulous mood. "John, we have a case", he said and motioned the doctor to follow him. John was confused as he'd have thought Sherlock would want to spend time with Lestrade. He followed the consulting detective to the hall way anyway.

"So, did you call him already?"

Sherlock glanced at him. "I have no idea to whom you are referring."

"Don't play dumb with me. Mycroft, of course."

A smile made its way to Sherlock's lips. "I feel a bit dirty now. I have never asked him for a favor before. This is going to cost me."

"But this is good. I think so. A moment ago Lestrade didn't have a boyfriend or a job, and now he has at least one of those things."

"Only one?" Sherlock's voice mocked him. John looked at him and saw that the man had another one of his trademark devilish smiles on his lips. Sherlock shrugged. "I'm afraid Detective Inspector Lestrade will have to work harder if he is to get rid of me."

END

(to be followed by an epilogue)


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Several weeks later, Lestrade had finally gotten into a good enough shape to get back to work. At the station, he quickly became the target of everyone's stares. He knew they had all seen the pictures and the videos that had been broadcast all across the country, and that were now circulating the internet. It was, for all intents and purposes, a sex scandal. He was lucky the higher ups had reconsidered their position and given him his job back, but as he noticed that absolutely everyone at the station was staring at him, he wondered if he could handle the scrutiny of which he was now the subject.

Unbeknownst to him, several rumors had been going around the precinct. According to some, Lestrade had been fired. Some said he was going to be knighted by the queen herself. One even went so far as to speculate that he had indeed been fired but been reinstated by a member of the British government. Nobody quite knew what to believe. All they knew for sure was that Lestrade had come back to work, and they would have to figure out a way to deal with him.

Lestrade's first instinct was to deny everything. Hold a meeting with the people at the station and tell them that Moriarty had used photoshop and video manipulation to produce the material he had shown. People would probably have believed him, too. Not enough people, though.

His second idea, and the one he decided to go with, was to pretend nothing had happened and just get back to work. At least for now. He couldn't call Sherlock for cases anymore, though, that part was going to be different. He had gotten his job back, but he was rather sure that wouldn't last for too long if somebody got wind of him sharing information about official police business with the same man he had been caught shagging, on tape no less.

He got to spend a whole fifteen minutes in his lonesome glory before he heard Sally gasp. He winced. He raised his gaze from his papers and saw that others were staring as well. _What did I do to deserve this, God?_ He wondered briefly. Then he smiled. _Oh, _that_'s right. Bedding Sherlock should do it_.

The man in question had appeared in the room. He had brought John along, of course. The man was eying him from behind his curls and his stare burned through Lestrade, as usual. They were separated by ten feet of tables, approximately a dozen officers and and their curious stares, as well as another bouquet of flowers that Sherlock was holding in his arms. It was more extravagant than the one from before. This time the flowers were red tulips, instead of the purple hyacinths the first ones had been.

Right at that moment, Lestrade understood that the flowers apparently had some meaning other than just being flowers, but he couldn't remember anything about flowers and their meanings right then and there. He should have guessed, though: Sherlock didn't even give flowers without an ulterior motive.

Aware that every single cop in the room was looking at him, Lestrade stepped forward. "I didn't call for you. I've only been back for a quarter of an hour, literally, so I wouldn't even have anything. And in any case, your services here are officially done. I'm sorry."

Sherlock hadn't moved. He didn't acknowledge having heard his words with anything, not even a nod. Suddenly, though, something seemed to change inside him. For a moment, he looked..uncertain.

John elbowed Sherlock on his side. "Get on with it", he told the taller man standing next to him.

Sherlock nearly jumped, more because of his words than the sudden pain on his side. He then approached Lestrade, taking slow, small steps until he was finally standing in front of him.

"I..." Sherlock opened his mouth but nothing came out. This was going to be awkward as hell. "Would you..." He grunted. "I think it would be logical if.." He grew quiet again. He tried again. "What..would you consider...marrying me?"

Lestrade started laughing. He stopped quickly, because he felt a sudden twinge of pain from his chest: he was afraid of ripping the stitches. He still chuckled for quite some time, until he saw John's face. Then he turned to look at Sherlock, who looked dead serious. He had a feeling everyone in the room gasped at the moment he and they realized Sherlock had been serious. In his own, warped sort of way, but serious nonetheless.

"Why..." Lestrade's voice trailed away. He turned to John. "What is he on about?"

"Just hear him out. I thought he was nuts at first, too, but I think in his mind this is all very..." John didn't quite know how to finish his sentence, so he just stayed silent.

Lestrade sighed. His first day back on the job and he was already tired. "Sherlock. I don't know what happened during the time I spent in the hospital, but I hope you get your head fixed. As for your consulting detective days at the station, they are over. Now leave the premises or I'm going to escort you out myself." He turned away, but Sherlock stopped him.

"Now, you listen to me, you self-loathing little _jolt-head_", the man hissed.

Lestrade turned back around. "Honestly? Macbeth?"

Sherlock turned back to his normal, calm self. "No, the local hobos." He shook his head. He spoke in a voice so soft that even Lestrade had trouble hearing, though he was standing right next to him. "Getting married will fix all the problems we have."

"If I had nickel for every girl who ever said that.." Lestrade interrupted him, but Sherlock ignored him and continued. "It's not a sex scandal if the couple is in a committed relationship. By getting married we'd establish that we have done nothing wrong. You'd get your reputation back, well, more or less."

"And what do you get out of this?" Lestrade tried to whisper but couldn't lower his voice as much as Sherlock, and some of the people listening to them heard him.

"As your husband, you might feel like sharing your worries over cases with me. Who knows, maybe I could even help you with them", Sherlock whispered and raised his eyebrow suggestively. Lestrade noticed that, though he had had every intention of keeping Sherlock at an arm's length away from him, Sherlock had managed to slip very close to him. So close, even, that Lestrade could feel his breath on him. All that was separating them were the tulips. As the man spoke the last words, he leaned a little closer still.

"So nothing would change? Sorry, no deal." Lestrade pushed the man away from him and towards the door.

"At least take the flowers", Sherlock told him. "I have no use for them."

"Fine. Thanks, I think." Lestrade accepted the bouquet and Sherlock nodded. Just when Lestrade thought he might survive the encounter relatively unscathed regardless of all the people thinking God knew what at the moment, Sherlock made his final move. He grabbed Lestrade's tie and kissed him. It was a sweet, comforting, not at all passionate kiss, and yet to Lestrade, it felt like the best one they'd ever had.

It didn't last long. Sherlock soon broke the kiss and leaned back. "Have a good day at work, _dear_", he remarked and then sprinted off. John followed him after having shot a sympathetic glance at Lestrade.

Lestrade turned to face everyone else. "He's, uh...he's nuts." Then he walked back to his desk, placed the tulips on it and got on his computer.

He knew he had do check it before he could get any work done. He typed 'flower language purple hyacinth' on his search bar, and found a site that told him that the flower was given when apologizing to someone. That seemed fairly logical, since Sherlock had given them to him after he had thought things had gone horribly wrong between them.

He accidentally closed the window, so he opened a new one. He wondered whether there'd be a rather straight-forward Wikipedia article on the subject, and found out that there indeed was such a site. He scrolled down and looked until he found a box with the word 'Tulip' in its middle. Next to the box, there were two options, red and yellow tulips. He let his eyes move to read what the box next to 'red' said.

He was immobile for a second as he processed the information. He then broke out into a warm smile. He pulled out his headset and started working. Time to change the song, he thought.


	8. Author's notes

To sum up, the song used in this fic is _Animal_ by _Neon Trees_. The video that inspired this fic into existence is by MonstersInside on YT (look it up). I have seen this video now for about a hundred times. I wish I were kidding about this, I really do.

I never had any intention of writing a Sherlock fic. This new series which is kind of Sherlock but not really, gave me enough leeway to write this. It is absurd how one can become so consumed after watching one video on YT, but here we are.

I essentially wrote all the chapters except the epilogue in the course of one night (I stayed up for 37 hours, and even more on other days when I was adding some scenes), so I really just didn't sleep. Some of the chapters were missing some important elements, so they had to be modified. For example the scene from chapter 3 where Lestrade meets John was added later. It was mostly to ease the transition from the angsty chapter 2 to a bit more lighter relationship between Sherlock and Lestrade which I preferred. Lestrade was just having a bad day.

In this story, I sort of experimented with the idea of a non-reliable narrator. John takes everyone's words as the truth, and learns that that might not always be such a good idea. That said, I don't think Lestrade or Sherlock are sure themselves about what's going on between them. Especially Lestrade seems confused between wanting to maintain things as they were, but they both realize this is becoming serious and don't know quite know what to do with themselves or each other.

The websites Lestrade goes through at the end are the following:

.org/wiki/Language_of_flowers

.

If ffnet cuts the addresses, the other one is the wikipedia article and the other one is from a place called Aggie horticulture. I think you can find them with a bit of googling. The reason I'm specifying the addresses here, instead of letting you google it by yourself, is that there are two definitions for red tulips, and I only mean one of them. So, nothing to do with the word 'perfect', clear?

I know, he asked him to marry him, but they definitely won't, at least not for now. I don't know how to quite make it fit into the canon, since Sherlock and John lived together pretty much their whole lives after meeting each other save for the time when Watson was married. I think Sherlock and Lestrade would be pretty functional as a couple that doesn't live together, so maybe it's not a real problem.

As always with my fics, this would've been so much better if I'd been more patient, if I had more time and if I wrote this on reasonable hours (right now it's 5.45 am, which is a pretty good example of the hours I did). Also, although I did write it, I am not too fond of the public aspect of the ending, what with Lestrade and Sherlock's photos all over Great Britain. Especially the epilogue at the police station felt a bit like a romantic comedy, but I just felt that it had to go down there.

The short line where Lestrade wonders what he did to piss off God is a bit of a nod to my religion. I want to specify: it's not because Sherlock is a man, it's because Sherlock is Sherlock.

On an unrelated topic: definition of _antics_: amusing, frivolous or eccentric behavior. Gives Sherlock's dealings with Lestrade a whole new meaning..

References to other TV shows. Might contain spoilers, so beware. Most of these were purely coincidental, and I only noticed them when I was done writing the lines:

Chapter 2: 'Very good doctor' is a reference to _the Big bang theory_ to a similar situation where Sheldon, a character not unlike Sherlock in some ways, congratulates his sidekick on figuring something out. 'Very good Leonard.'

Chapter 2: 'daily rape shower' refers to Supernatural. This one was intentional.

Chapter 2: 'Why deny me?' On _the Tudors_, Henry's friend (sir) Compton seduces Thomas Thallis. Historically inaccurate, but it's there.

Chapter 3: '_extraordinarily ordinary_' is a reference to Glee. To avoid spoiling someone, I won't tell you about the context, but it involves Kurt.

Epilogue: 'He's uh..He's nuts.' The line refers to the Big bang theory, in which doctor Gablehouser talks about Sheldon and utters the same line.

I have a feeling I'm forgetting some others, but oh well.

I never thought I would do a fic involving a song. _Animal_ is in my opinion a song just for these two: Sherlock keeps spinning Lestrade around and Lestrade wonders whether he should get out while he still has the chance, but doesn't. Still, he can never know if he's entertaining enough for Sherlock who grows bored every second something new isn't happening. Lestrade thinks he's going to be consumed by Sherlock's lust and then, if not immediately then eventually, be discarded. So he's trying to fit into Sherlock's life without losing himself, and in the end decides it's better to discard Sherlock before he gets to it first. Sherlock had his own ideas about what they'd do, however.. I hardly need to spell out the significance behind the last line of the story.


End file.
